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As Australia settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of coast and blistering heat set to the background of Test cricket and cicada song, this year the country’s summer atmosphere seems, unfortunately, like none before.

It would be a dramatic understatement to describe the collective temperament after the anti-Jewish violent assault on Australian Jews during Bondi Hanukah celebrations as one of simple discontent.

Throughout the country, but nowhere more so than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tone of initial surprise, sorrow and terror is segueing to fury and deep polarization.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed fears of Australian Jews are now highly attuned. Just as, they are sensitive to reconciling the need for a far more urgent, vigorous official fight against anti-Jewish hatred with the freedom to demonstrate against genocide.

If ever there was a moment for a national listening, it is now, when our faith in humanity is so deeply diminished. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the animosity and fear of religious and ethnic persecution on this continent or elsewhere.

And yet the social media feeds keep spewing at us the banal hot takes of those with inflammatory, divisive stances but no sense at all of that profound vulnerability.

This is a period when I lament not having a stronger spiritual belief. I mourn, because believing in people – in mankind’s potential for kindness – has failed us so painfully. A different source, a greater power, is needed.

And yet from the atrocity of Bondi we have seen such profound instances of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The selflessness of bystanders. First responders – police officers and medical staff, those who charged into the danger to help others, some publicly hailed but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the police tape still fluttered wildly all about Bondi, the necessity of community, faith-based and cultural solidarity was laudably promoted by faith leaders. It was a message of compassion and tolerance – of bringing together rather than splitting apart in a moment of antisemitic slaughter.

Consistent with the symbolism of the Festival of Lights (illumination amid gloom), there was so much appropriate reference of the need for hope.

Togetherness, hope and love was the essence of faith.

‘Our shared community spaces may not look exactly as they did again.’

And yet elements of the political landscape responded so disgustingly quickly with fragmentation, finger-pointing and accusation.

Some elected officials moved straight for the darkness, using the atrocity as a cynical chance to question Australia’s immigration policies.

Observe the harmful rhetoric of disunity from longstanding agitators of societal discord, capitalizing on the massacre before the crime scene was even cold. Then consider the words of political figures while the probe was still active.

Government has a formidable task to do when it comes to uniting a nation that is grieving and scared and seeking the hope and, importantly, explanations to so many questions.

Like why, when the official terror alert was assessed as probable, did such a significant public Hanukah celebration go ahead with such a woefully insufficient protection? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the residence when the security agency has so publicly and consistently warned of the threat of antisemitic violence?

How rapidly we were treated to that tired argument (or iterations of it) that it’s individuals not guns that cause death. Naturally, both things are valid. It’s feasible to at the same time pursue new ways to prevent hate-fuelled violence and keep firearms away from its potential actors.

In this city of immense beauty, of clear blue heavens above ocean and shore, the ocean and the coastline – our shared community spaces – may not look quite the same again to the many who’ve observed that iconic Bondi seems so incongruous with last weekend’s obscene bloodshed.

We long right now for understanding and meaning, for family, and perhaps for the solace of aesthetics in art or the natural world.

This weekend many Australians are cancelling holiday gathering plans. Quiet contemplation will seem more in order.

But this is perhaps somewhat against instinct. For in these times of fear, outrage, melancholy, bewilderment and loss we require each other now more than ever.

The reassurance of togetherness – the binding force of the unity in the very word – is what we likely need most.

But sadly, all of the portents are that cohesion in politics and the community will be hard to find this extended, enervating summer.